love, we need it now
by tiltingaxis
Summary: He wonders what she's doing here, in the school auditorium of all places. Shouldn't she be in New York? AU


**A/N: short little fluffy AU =)**

* * *

He first catches sight of her from the side of the stage. His eyes were roaming wildly from the crowd to his kids, and he did a double take when he caught the blonde streaks attached to some very familiar eyes. He shook his head, wondering if all those bright lights and the nerves were messing with his brain, but nope. It really was her. He wasn't sure exactly when his panic attack dissipated, but it must have been somewhere within that fifteen second window of him adjusting his eyes and trying to catch a good view of Rachel Berry (and it wasn't exactly that easy with the large bald man in his way).

He wonders what she's doing here, in the school auditorium of all places. Shouldn't she be in New York? Didn't she tell him once that she was never going to look back once she left? He remembers telling her good luck. Good for you, Rachel, New York will be home in no time (God, he sounded like an idiot when he said that. He still remembers the frozen smile on her face at his words. He remembers a lot of things that he shouldn't). So what is she doing here, in the middle of the school year, sitting in the audience of this year's school musical?

He stands to the side of the stage, his gaze aimed directly at her while hers remain focused on the show. He doesn't notice how long he's been standing there until Jake accidentally shoves him on the way out to the stage, and his mind clears up instantly. The crowd is running wild as the boys break into Greased Lightning, and Finn smiles proudly. It took a while to get these news kids whipped up into shape, but with Artie as his co-director this year, they managed to pull it off. With his mind back in focus, Finn shuffles back, walking back to the backstage to make sure that everyone is ready for their next scene.

But in the back of his mind, her presence is acute. Rachel Berry is here, and he doesn't know why the knowledge is bothering him this much.

(He's lying, of course. He knows exactly why.)

xxxx

He realizes that she's gone by the curtain call. He had been so swept up by the musical, he barely remembers to look her way until then, but as he's about to step out to the stage for the audience's applause, his eyes inevitably stray back to the middle of the auditorium, and she's gone. His step falters, and he almost stops, but Artie and the rest of the kids are calling his name, and he moves automatically, his face slipping into an easy smile once he strides out into the spotlight.

The crowd rises to give him a standing ovation, and his grin widens. He knew the show was good, and he's so proud of each and every one of them, but to know that even the audience sees it, well that's just pretty fucking awesome, okay?

"You see that Artie?" he whispers quietly as he bends to level with the boy in the wheelchair. "That's for you."

Artie grins and holds up his hand for a fistbump.

"You mean us, Mr. H," Artie whispers back.

"You're the director," he says with a grin.

"I couldn't have pulled this off without you, you know that." Finn laughs at the younger man's scoff, straightening up as the rest of the cast starts to surround him. Marley, this year's Sandy, makes a beeline for him and shakes his hand, boisterously thanking him for taking a chance on her and before he could wave her off, 'Danny Zuko' strides up to plant one on her. Finn raises an eyebrow, giving the two of them a few seconds before he starts shooing them off the stage, bowing at the dissipating crowd once more before he leaves.

The backstage is a flurry of activity, with all the students alternating between congratulating one another, to squealing at the standing ovation they had received. Finn hangs back, allowing them this moment as he takes in the smiling faces before him. There's a pang in his chest when he remembers last year. The school play was his first success in his first year at William McKinley, and he has one person to really thank for that.

"Did you see Rachel?" His mind snaps back to reality as he turns to look at Tina Cohen-Chang standing to his right. She keeps talking to Artie as she fixes the young man's tie, unaware that Finn's listening. "She was in the audience, and boy, did she look different."

"I didn't notice her," Artie says with a frown. Tina shrugs.

"She left like a third way through the musical, during You're the One That I Want."

"Maybe she thought we sucked. You know Rachel, she'd find something to complain about unless she's starring in it herself. I wonder what she's doing here?"

Finn frowns, wondering the same thing. Tina shrugs again, looking up and catching his eye. She blushes, and he smiles at her, pretending that he hadn't been listening in to their conversation before he straightens up and makes his way to the middle of the group.

"Okay, everyone huddle up," he yells. Everyone but the new freshman ignores him and he rolls his eyes, putting two fingers up to his lips to whistle loudly. "Dudes! And dudettes," he amends when Tina starts to open her mouth. "Teacher talking here! Look, guys, I just wanna say that I'm really, really proud of you, okay? You guys did an awesome job. No, _super_ awesome job, and I'm so proud of each and every one of you. Did you see that standing ovation we received out there? That was for you. For all the hard work you've put into this show, and you earned it. Just thought I'd tell you guys that before you go live it up at the afterparty-"

"Afterparty at the Pierce's!" Sam yells. "They have a hot tub," he whispers quietly to Jake who rolls his eyes. Finn ignores that last comment, choosing to wrap up his little speech instead.

"Be safe, okay guys?" he finishes, before he says a quick goodbye, striding out the back of the auditorium.

Xxxx

He tells himself that he's just tired, that's why he's in such a hurry, because he's barely slept a wink for the past month, possibly. But it's not that convincing when his steps are so slow and when his eyes are very obviously scoping out the empty hallway. He doesn't know what he's thinking. Why would she still be here anyway? Why here in McKinley high, the bane of her existence for the last four years of her life (or so she told him)? She's probably home, probably on her way back to New York by now where she belongs. But his steps take him to the choir room, and it doesn't take long for him to recognize the sound coming from inside (this isn't the first time he's heard her crying).

He's torn as he stands frozen just in front of the door, and when he finally makes his move, it opens to a distraught Rachel with her phone clutched to her chest. Her hair is covering her face and she almost slams into him.

"Rachel," he says without thinking, stepping back as she freezes. Slowly, she starts to look up, the shock on her face unmissable.

"Mr. Hudson," she breathes out. He would take the time to fully assess her appearance, but the rough tone of her voice takes precedence, and he frowns.

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully. He's standing at a respectable distance, and she's still rooted to the spot (The back of his brain is nagging for him to notice how different she looks, how she looks nothing like that girl he used to know).

"I'm fine," she assures him, a weak smile gracing her features, but he knows her better than that. He learned to know her well for the better part of the year, better than anyone, really. More than he should.

"Have you been crying?" he asks quietly. She looks away, and that pretty much confirms his hunch.

"I'm fine, Mr. H," she says instead, and he wants to tell her that he knows she's lying. He knows her well enough to know that. He sees her well enough to know that she was crying, and from the look on her face, he knows _why_ she's crying. He knows that look better than he's supposed to. It's a boy.

(He ignores that pang in his chest, because it's wrong. It's always been wrong.)

"What are you doing here?" he asks, changing the subject, ignoring the relieved look on her face.

"I came to watch Grease," she says in a brighter note, looking up at him with a smile. "It was amazing."

"Thanks," he answers, grinning as his chest puffs with pride once again. She looks up at him with an earnest look on her face, and even though her features are now painted to look older, the stretch of her lips is still achingly familiar.

"You did an incredible job with the new kids. I mean, there were some off-pitch moments, but I think that's to be expected. After all, they never did receive the training I did as a child."

She speaks cheerfully, her tone belying the slight nervous tremble in her words and it pulls a smile out of him. Who would have thought a year ago that he would come to miss the tiny girl's incessant chatter? Rachel Berry was a pain in his ass for the first few weeks on the job, but there was always something about that bright beam on her face that hid her vulnerability, something in the way her words and her talent seemed to always eclipse _her_ that endeared her to him. She wormed her way into his heart long before he even realized it.

"You would have done it better," he blurts out, cutting her ramble short. She looks up at him in surprise, but he ignores it. "You would have been a better Sandy."

Her face illuminates into a blinding smile for a fraction of a second at his words before she flusters, looking down shyly at her boots.

"Don't let your Sandy here you say that," she finally says after a moment of silence. He smiles, shaking his head.

"It's just between us."

They stand awkwardly in silence, still within a respectable distance, and he knows he should let her go. He should leave now, and let her go her merry way and save all these unresolved tension for another man, for that boy she was crying over. But he can't help but feel like this might be the last time they'll see each other, and he can't- _doesn't want_ to let it end in just a quiet nod of the head in an empty school hallway.

"Did you drive here?" he finds himself saying. She shakes her head.

"I came with a friend," she says quietly. The way she says friend implies that it's not that simple, and that there that stupid heart goes again, constricting.

"Oh. Where is he?"

"He left."

She doesn't elaborate, and he doesn't ask her to.

"Need a ride home?" he offers. She frowns, looking up at him inquisitively.

"Aren't you going to the afterparty?" she asks curiously. He shakes his head with a grin.

"I'm getting too old for that kind of thing."

"You're barely twenty-four," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Exactly, and I'm not getting any younger," he jokes. She cracks a smile, the first genuine smile he's seen on her the whole night, and he relaxes.

He was always good at that.

Xxxx

They sit across from each other in the booth. The diner they're in is almost empty, and considering that it's almost midnight, it's not that surprising. She fiddles shyly with the straw of her soda, tucking a strand of hair over her ear, and he finally takes in the way she looks. The hair and the make-up and the dress. She's different now. She looks so grown-up, and if he didn't know her, he wouldn't know that this was the same girl who used to dominate his choir room in animal sweaters and modest, knee-length sundresses (He doesn't know what it says about him as a person that he misses those parts of her. He's rounding it up with the rest of his thoughts about her that would have placed him in the 'dysfunctionally sick' category).

He takes another sip of his coffee, wondering if this is a mistake. It has never been this hard to talk to her before. Rachel, for all of her endless chatter, was always a good listener if given the chance. But then again, the last time he saw her before this was during graduation, and he's pretty sure he's still recovering from that. He catches her looking up at him, her thick mascara framing her large eyes, and she quickly looks back down when she catches his gaze. He smiles. He's never known Rachel Berry to be this shy before.

"How's New York?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"New York's wonderful!" she tells him brightly. "It's everything I thought it would be. And more. It's amazing."

"You sound very sure of yourself," he says, amused. She nods emphatically.

"I am. I mean, it's everything I've always wanted you know. I'm in the school I want to be in, in the city I've been dreaming of since I was a little girl. Everything- _everything_ is perfect."

Her beam is a mile wide, and he's pretty sure it's hurting her face to smile that big. He wonders if calling her out would be the best bet, but they've always been honest (painfully so).

"But?"

"But what?"

"_I _don't know," he says. "You tell me."

"I love it there Mr. Hudson, I really do."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says sincerely. He almost reaches out to touch her hand, but he checks himself. She smiles at him, but it falters a little as she sighs.

"But-," she starts hesitantly, a small frown gracing her features. "it's different."

"What is?" he prods quietly.

"_Everything_. It's harder than I thought it would be, transitioning. I just- sometimes I miss Lima. Isn't that crazy?" She laughs humorlessly, shaking her head. "I never thought I would. And sometimes I- sometimes I-"

"What?" he murmurs, smiling encouragingly at the reluctant look on her face. The look she gives him is almost scrutinizing, before she sighs and shrugs her shoulders.

"Brody says that it's normal. That, you know, it's just the freshman blues."

"Brody?" He keeps his tone neutral, and prays that she can't see the red flags going up in his brain.

"He's a friend I made," she tells him nonchalantly. And why shouldn't she be? He's just an old teacher. He's just her old, non-creepy teacher.

"The one who came with you tonight?"

"How'd you know that?" she asks curiously. He forces a smile and shrugs.

"Lucky guess," he says. Rachel nods, fiddling with her straw again.

"He-" she starts hesitantly, looking up at him carefully. "I think he wants to be more."

Their eyes hold from across the table, hers clouded and questioning while he tries his best to keep his guarded.

"Ah. What do you want?" he asks quietly.

"I-" she starts, and it's in this moment that he knows this whole night is a bad idea.

"Maybe you should give it a try," he tells her lightly, barging in before she could get a word in. He doesn't mention that leaving her stranded in her old high school is a grade A douchebag move. Rachel frowns as she looks up at him and he smiles at her easily. "I mean, hey if the guy asks you out on a date or two, there's no harm in testing the waters right?"

It's quiet again between them, and for the girl that spent an entire year of his life talking his head off, she's surprisingly good at being quiet too.

"Is that really what you think?" she finally asks. Her tone is clear, devoid of any doubt as she asks him this, and it makes him think twice before he answers. She's giving him this familiar look, the one she really has no business giving him. Imperceptibly, he nods his head. Her back stiffens almost immediately at his gesture, her lips stretched out into a thin line as she reciprocates his nod.

"Okay," she says softly, almost to herself. She slides out of the booth and stands up so quickly, it surprises him.

"Where are you going?" he asks. She doesn't look at him as she grabs her coat hanging off the back of her seat.

"It's late. I have to go home."

"Wait, let me pay for this. No, Rachel it's fine," he says when she reaches for her purse. She turns to give him an inscrutable stare before she nods and starts stalking off. "Rachel wait!"

He slaps a few bills on the table, sending the waitress an apologetic look before he runs after his old student.

"Rachel!" he calls out when he reaches the exit. She ignores him and keeps walking briskly to his car. Finn frowns, taking a deep breath before rushing to her.

"Hey," he calls out when he reaches her, one hand reaching out to wrap his fingers around her arm. "Where's the fire?"

"I'm just really tired. I have a plane to catch tomorrow," she tells him shortly. Oh. Right. New York is waiting.

"Oh. Right. Okay."

He lets go of her immediately, feeling the pocket of his pants for his keys. It takes him a few seconds, but it's apparently a few seconds too long for her because she harrumphs and rolls her eyes.

"You know, I'm _nineteen_ years old," she tells him suddenly. He looks up at her hostile tone.

"I know," he says carefully.

"Do you? Look at me Mr. Hudson," she says, pointing down to herself. "I'm not some high school girl anymore. I graduated. I'm _different_ now, in case you hadn't noticed. I grew up!"

"I know, Rac-"

"Then why are you still treating me like I'm some stupid high school girl that you can't touch?" she demands.

Well, there's that. What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

"I-"

"I came back here, because I wanted to see _you_, okay? I- I thought- God, I'm so _stupid_. I just- I thought-"

"What did you think?"

"I thought-" she stops, taking a deep breath. "I thought you felt something, when we kissed."

The words come out softly, and she's determinedly staring down at the ground with her arms wrapped almost protectively around her and in this light, she suddenly looks exactly like that high school girl who took him by surprise before running off on him on graduation.

The weight that has been pressing on him for months now suddenly feels too heavy and he leans against the hood of his car, sighing.

"Rachel," he starts softly.

"You don't have to say anything. I get it. I'm just a stupid child. I'm an idiot. Just take me home, please."

He wants to say something more, but the vulnerability seeped in every word stops him, and he sighs heavily.

"Come on."

xxxx

He doesn't know what to say to her. The ride to her house has never felt this long before. She's crying. He knows because she keeps surreptitiously trying to wipe her face, and because she has that look, the one that's still for him.

Graduation comes to his mind unbidden, the large beam on her face when she caught him in his office telling him that she did it, that all her dreams were going to come true then. He remembers being so fucking proud, pretending like it was normal for a teacher to feel that strongly for any one of his students. He had always been good at fooling himself. Until she had leaned up and kissed him, and everything began to unravel. He turns to look at her briefly, taking in the way that she seems to cave into herself.

"Remember the first time we met?" he asks quietly. She doesn't answer, so he continues. "You were auditioning for West Side Story, and you insisted on singing You're the One that I Want, despite not having anyone to sing with you. You made me do it, remember?" He chuckles at the memory, remembering how much she had freaked him out, the tiny senior in her sailor dress and her surprising strength as she pulled on him insistently.

"I was the new teacher that everybody was making fun of, because the school musical was the _last_ thing anyone wanted to do. And then you showed up, with-"

"Look Mr. Hudson, if this is your way of trying to let me down, don't bother. I-"

"That's not what I'm doing," he cuts in firmly. She stops talking, but there's still a deep frown on her face, so he sighs and pulls over. It's almost 1 in the morning, and there are a million and one terrible ways that this scenario could be misconstrued by a passerby, but screw it. One of them is right anyway. He stares at his hands on the steering wheel, trying to find the right words.

"Look, Rachel. I was- I was this new teacher at this school that didn't make me feel welcomed, you know? It was hard, and- and I _hated_ my life here. I hated that I had to work here. But then- you know, there was the musical. And then there was you. And I just- You're not _wrong_, Rachel."

She looks confused, and he knows he's not articulating himself very well, but excuse him, it's not every day that a teacher is about to admit to his ex-student that he's fallen for her (God, even the thought of it is still weirding him out).

"I did- I did feel something. I've been- Rachel, you made my life better, you know what I mean?" He looks away from her, because looking her in the eye is unnerving him. "You and Glee, and all those kids, you make this place _mean_ something to me. But especially you. I- I don't know how to say this without sounding like a complete creep, but you touched something in me, your voice, and your spirit and- and your _everything_, it-"

"I never thought I'd ever meet anyone who could understand me until I met you Mr. H," she cuts in quietly. He turns to her and finds her looking at him, a small smile on her face.

"Yeah?" he murmurs with a small smile.

"Yeah."

They share another smile, and she starts to lean in, but once she gets too close, he holds her by her shoulders.

"But you're _still_ nineteen Rachel-"

"You're _only_ twenty-four-"

"You have your whole future ahead of you-"

"And it still will be-"

"I'm a school teacher in Lima, for God's _sake_-"

"You're the _best_ school teacher in Lima," she corrects. "And if I'm not mistaken, the youngest and _only_ teacher to have ever brought the school to a National championship."

"That's because of you," he answers almost affectionately.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's because of _us_. We make a great team, remember?" she says, the sweetest smile on her face. He reaches out, cupping her jaw gently.

"We do," he concedes with a grin.

"So are you _actually_ going to let me kiss you now, or are we going to spend the whole night talking about how this isn't going to work?"

"Will it?" he asks quietly. She shrugs, reaching up to take his hand in hers. She pulls their hands to the front and leans closer with a smile.

"You tell me," she whispers. She leans towards him, and he finds himself leaning closer, until they're just a few inches away.

"Wait."

Rachel blows out a heavy breath, her closed eyes opening in annoyance.

"_What_, Mr. Hudson?" she hisses impatiently. He smiles, tugging her closer to close the distance between them.

"I think it's time you call me Finn."


End file.
